


A Talk That Never Happened

by ptycster



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Drama, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Psychological Drama, Soul Bond, Soulmates, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 21:02:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8816167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptycster/pseuds/ptycster
Summary: DI Chandler meets Johnny Kray alone after all.    This is a translation; all faults and errors are mine, all kudos go to the author (Charaa) and all comments are welcome!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Разговор, которого не было](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2514791) by [Charaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charaa/pseuds/Charaa). 



_“I want you to set up a meeting between me and Jonny Kray. Just Jonny.”_

The house is silent and empty when he enters, his steps echoing loudly from the ceiling. The venue for their meeting has been duly prepared. Everything is pure white: the walls, the floor, the stairs. DI Chandler follows the black line of a handrail to a rectangle of light in the darkness. An open door.

“Where’s Lord Hessel?” Chandler asks, by way of greeting. 

“Probably somewhere in Thailand by now.” Jonny smiles politely, as if oblivious to the DI’s harsh tone. “Soothing his frayed nerves, I believe. Frayed by you, Detective Inspector. Besides, over there, his partners’ age shouldn’t matter much.” 

There are photographs scattered all over the antique table at Jonny’s side. Chandler recognises them. These are the ones he showed Lord Hessel the day before.

“By the way, that’s me with Lord Hessel in the photographs, not Jimmy’, Jonny startles him. 

“They say Ronny Kray had a sexual relationship with Lord Boothby, a top Conservative. So what is it, you doing a full-blown copycat?” 

“Of course not. Just copying the past will get us nowhere. And we’d like to grow our…” A pause. The Krays are fond of pregnant pauses, Chandler has already noticed that. “...our business.”

In Dr Llewellyn’s lab (‘butchery’, as Miles calls it), there is a chipped tile on the floor. It always hypnotises Joe. The lab floor is made of identical tiles, sliced by grout lines into perfect squares. Except for the chipped one; an island of chaos in a sea of order. 

Here, the table’s curvy fretwork is horribly random, illogical. His eyes follow the curves looking for a way out of the labyrinth, failing, then starting all over again. 

“My brother wants to cut you into small pieces, to see what’s inside,” Jonny observes, in an impeccable small-talk tone. 

Jimmy, chaos undisguised; Jonny, molten lava swirling under a thin crust of etiquette. You might tiptoe over the crust, but this doesn’t make the liquid fire beneath it less dangerous. Quite the opposite.

“And you? What do you want?” DI Chandler retorts. 

A single word falls between them:

“You.”

At first, Chandler doesn’t understand. Then he gets it, everything at once.

“I, too, am interested in what’s inside you, Detective Inspector. Same as Jimmy. But we have different methods, my brother and I.” 

Jonny is holding the photographs as poker cards, shuffling them smoothly and steadily.

“I know a lot about you, Detective Inspector.”

With four precise movements of his hand, four photographs slide across the desk and freeze in perfect alignment along its edge. Two of them show Chandler’s desk at the office. The other two are of Chandler’s apartment.

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” Chandler is honestly surprised. 

“No, Detective Inspector.”

Another four photographs are placed on the table in a row, immaculately aligned with the first one.

Chandler is about to comment (“I didn’t know you took photos of your crime scenes”) when the understanding sinks in.

The first row of photographs: exaggerated order. The second row: exaggerated destruction.

_“…exactly the same as in 1966. George Cornel was sitting right there when Ronny came in and shot him in the head… I defy anyone to tell one brother from the other… That’s me in the pictures, not Jimmy… Ronny Kray had a sexual relationship with Lord Boothby...”_

Destruction engineered to the highest precision. The other side of the same obsession. 

“You wanted this meeting. You suggested this meeting. And you heard my offer. I’ve made the first move for you, Detective Inspector.” 

Jonny’s eyes are all expectation, anticipation, thrill of the game. Everything has been measured and weighted up. Just like before arresting a criminal. One more step... One more word... And the suspended pendulum will start its descent, faster and faster.

A reflection. He sees himself across the abyss. 

“No!” His voice sounds alien, terse and harsh.

The pendulum halts at its lowest point. Chandler feels it sweep against his skin as it rustles through the air.

“Well…” The room fills with an almost perceptible, tangy cloud of Jonny’s disappointment. “In this case, let’s see if you are brave enough to talk to both of us tomorrow.”

The quiet twilight house is somewhere far, far away. Here and now, there is only the barren land split by a crevice, the sky hanging low, and the giant pendulum sweeping over the two figures locked at the opposite sides.

“Tomorrow?” 

Chandler hears the pendulum rustle back over his head. 

“Jimmy is my brother, Detective Inspector. How could I hide anything from my… blood brother? But sometimes I don’t tell him everything. Let’s pretend this talk never happened.”

He opens the door when he hears a quiet “Detective Inspector...”

“Detective Inspector, have you ever wished for…” There is an almost imperceptible pause. “…for a soul brother?”

Chandler never looks back, at the crevice gaping at him from across the parquetry floor. The edge beckons. 

And it is but a step to the other side.


End file.
